And you wonder why they call you 'Freak?
by Icedragonmo3
Summary: hpx-men crossover. After being sentenced to Azkaban, Harry's gift unlocks. With a new school, new teachers, and new friends, can he truly start over again?
1. Everyone He Had Ever Known

"Harold Potter, you are charged with First Degree Murder, Conspiracy to Assassinate the Minister of Magic, and thirty-seven separate violations of the Muggle Secrecy Act. How do you plead?" Albus Dumbledore, one of the light's greatest champions and up until the week before, one of Harry's most loyal friends, questioned him with a grim face and noticeable absence of the familiar twinkle in his eyes.  
  
Harry, with his jaw set firm, looked him straight in the eyes. "Innocent."  
  
A wave of murmuring broke out across the courtroom, shocked and scandalized voices protesting his claim.  
  
The headmaster let out a disappointed sigh, looking down at his lap, before raising his head again. "Very well" he spoke very softly, almost too softly as the people in the room were about to start screaming for his blood. "SILENCE!" he roared, and the crowd quieted immediately. "This room will stay silent or no one will be allowed to remain. Do I make myself clear?" Harry, personally, thought that it was a rhetorical question. No one would dare argue.  
  
Harry looked over to the side of the room, finding the Weasleys sitting with faces utterly devoid of the affection they had once felt for him. In particular, Mrs. Weasley, Ron, and Ginny were wearing masks of utmost hatred.  
  
He didn't even know how any of this happened in the first place. The last thing he remembered before waking in a holding cell somewhere in the bowels of the ministry, was going downstairs at the Dursley's home to begin making breakfast. A sharp blow to the back of his head, and falling down the stairs. He didn't remember reaching the bottom....  
  
He now finds out that a week had past since that morning, and is now being charged with murdering Cornelius Fudge, the prior Minister, and attempting to murder Arthur Weasley, the current one. Not only that, but it seems as though not a single soul believed him innocent.  
  
Somewhere, in the space of his mind that housed sarcasm, spoke a voice. 'Well, it certainly fits the pattern, does it not? Every two years the world turns against you, and every two years it is a higher percentage of the population that does. Second year? Half the school thought him to be the Heir of Slytherin. Fourth Year? Three quarters of the school thought him to be an attention seeking braggart. Now its Sixth year, and it seems as though everyone else had turned.'  
  
Harry hardly paid attention to the trial. Unlike in the muggle world, if you could not afford or obtain a lawyer, you were not given one. No, you had to defend yourself. Witness after witness approached, including Hermione and the six Weasleys present (Molly, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny), and testified the validity of the claims under Veritaserum, along with various other witches and wizards Harry did not recognize. The only people who might have been able to support Harry's claims of not doing it, were the Dursleys, and as they were muggles they were not allowed to testify. There was a bit about how Harry's wand under 'Priori Incantem' held the shadow of the attempt on Minister Weasley's life, and that Harry couldn't testify for himself under Veritaserum since he was able to resist Imperio, and would also be able to resist the truth potion as well.  
  
In short, Harry never stood a chance.  
  
Albus asked for him to rise, as did all the members of the Wizengamot. "Harold James Potter. You are hereby found guilty of all charges. Were it not for the fact that you are underage, the Dementor's Kiss would be the only punishment suitable for these crimes. As it stands, you are to serve twelve consecutive life sentences in Azkaban, five for the murder, four for the attempted murder, and one for the secrecy violations. Do you have anything to say before your sentence is carried out?"  
  
Harry looked once more to the Weasleys, who were still glaring at him, then back to Dumbledore's stern visage. "I hope, that one day, you will all see your mistakes for what they are. I hope, that on that day, you come back, begging me to save you all, once again. On that day, I will happily tell you to go fuck yourself, and that you've made your bed and can now die in your sleep there."  
  
Gasps and thunderous cries of vengeance roared up in the chamber. After snapping Harry's wand which made a small glitter of red and gold sparks emerge from the crevice, Dumbledore merely shooed his hands twice, which apparently meant for the Aurors to take him away. One grabbed him under his arm on his right, while another did the same on his left. With his ankles and wrists shackled together, they more or less had to carry him out to transport to the wizard's prison. Harry kept his head bowed, not willing to believe that the people he had considered family had turned on him, betrayed him.  
  
"STOP!" he heard the voice of Ginny. His heart soared! Perhaps she wouldn't let them take him! YES! Perhaps she just needed to think things through. The guards stopped, and turned him around to where a slender girl's feet where standing in front of him. He raised his eyes, hopeful that she would put and end to this madness. What he saw instead was a hand come down across his face, cutting with her nails as she completed the movement running a deep cut down the side of his face. It began at the outer edge of his eye and continuing half way down his cheek, quickly beginning to ooze large amounts of viscous blood. Before she could inflict further damage, however, or before her brothers and mother could continue the job, the Aurors lifted him once again and quickly made their way to the transport carriage.  
  
The ride to the boating dock that would eventually lead to the feared island prison was a dreadful one. Tears brimmed his eyes, but would not fall as he thought about the betrayal by those he had loved. It was just like the wizarding world to turn their backs on him, but it was quite another for his two best friends and the people he considered family to do so as well. The emotion kept building inside of him, making his heart pound harder and faster, and his vision to blur...  
  
When they arrived at the dock, six of the Aurors came and unshackled his ankles, then lifted him out of the back of the carriage. The formed a ring around him, with the ones on his left and right placing a firm grip on his arms guiding him towards the small rowboat. He chanced a look up and saw the massive walls of the prison on an island in the distance, and could feel the cold bite of the dementor's effects all the way from where he stood. He broke down and collapsed onto his knees with the pent up emotion exploding out of him with a painful sob and subsequent wretch. He briefly wondered why they weren't picking him up, until he looked up and saw the two Aurors in front of him on their knees, with their backs arched out, as a mist rose off through their skin. The more mist that spread from their skin, the more they dried out, withering them slightly until they passed out. A quick look around confirmed that all six had fallen unconscious.  
  
The mist collected into streams as it neared Harry, merging with the rain falling around him. Only then did he realize that the mist was being pulled towards him from the very start, and the collected water spun around his kneeling form as a conical spiral, before he blinked and it all collapsed to the ground with a splash. Horrified at what just happened, he quickly got up from his knees, feeling lightheaded with an accompanying pounding headache. He pulled the robe from the no longer conscious Auror, and did a quick inventory check after pulling it on. He now had the man's wand, a few galleons and sickles, and a ridiculous looking steepled wizard's hat. He quickly trudged away from the gruesome scene, and after a few hours, decided it was safe to call the Knight Bus.  
  
Pulling the hat down low, so as to cover his lightning bolt scar, he raised the wand in a hail, and nothing happened. He tried again, and still, nothing happened. Cursing under his breath, he realized that since it wasn't his wand, therefore it wouldn't work properly, and he also had no options left. He was a wanted criminal in the wizarding world, and had no suitable clothing or money for the muggle side.  
  
Taking a few steps into the spattering of trees alongside the road, he quickly reached a clearing. He sat down heavily on a large log, a mere skeleton of the tree it originated from. Staring at the puddle in the center of the clearing, he pulled the too-large robe tighter around him, trying to starve off the chill from walking in the rain for hours.  
  
He tried to find an option, but as each one came to his mind, it was cancelled out. He could go back to the Dursley's, but not only was the house probably being watched, that was where all this trouble began in the first place. He could try to hitchhike to London, but in his current state of malnutrition, he probably couldn't defend himself if someone he hitched a ride from wanted.... Something Else. He could owl Gringotts for money and information on an estate that he probably owned, but Hedwig wasn't anywhere around, and even if she were, she probably would be tracked. 'She does rather stick out', he mused.  
  
His wondering was cut short as a twig broke from behind and slightly to the left of where he sat. He jumped up and turned around with wide eyes, but he was too exhausted to run, and with his hands still shackled together, he probably couldn't defend himself properly. Of all the people he expected to walk through the trees, however, a pair of muggle women never crossed his mind.  
  
He took a moment to gauge them. The one on the left was an astonishingly attractive woman, with white hair, blue eyes, and black skin. A silver bodysuit with a black cape connected to her wrists made her stand out even more. The woman on the right had a similar bodysuit, except this one was green and she had an unbuttoned denim jacket instead of a cape. She had fiery red hair, and if it weren't for the fact that this woman's eyes were blue instead of green, he could almost have mistaken her for his mother. That fact alone was probably the only reason he wasn't trying to run yet.  
  
"Hello there," the red-haired one said. "My name is Jean, and this is Ororo. What are you doing out here all alone?" She spoke without a hint of malice, and obviously could tell he was scared and therefore trying to calm him down.  
  
Harry didn't reply, only took a few staggered steps backwards, still regarding the duo with wide eyes.  
  
The simply sat down, Jean on a large rock and Ororo on the log he had vacated. They made no move to come after him, and Harry felt himself relax just a bit more.  
  
"I think I know what you're going through, I went though it myself when my gift awakened." Ororo said, looking at him sympathetically.  
  
"G-Gift?" Harry stuttered, not knowing what in the nine hells this woman was talking about.  
  
"Perhaps a demonstration is in order, Storm?" Jean said, her eyebrows raised in query.  
  
Ororo, or Storm as Jean called her, stood, and looked to the sky where it was still raining, although the rain had diminished to only a light drizzle. Harry watched in awe as the irises in her eyes clouded over to where they were as white as her hair, and the rain stopped. Harry looked up towards the sky, and was similarly amazed to see the clouds roll back a bit, showing the blue sky hidden from behind directly over their clearing.  
  
"Brilliant..." he breathed. "But I don't think you have the right person ma'am. I don't have any 'gift'."  
  
"Are you sure that nothing exceptionally weird has happened in the last couple of hours to you? Perhaps at a time of heightened emotions?"  
  
Harry actually took a few moments to think about it, his mind was racing with so much, so much... The Aurors! When they collapsed! The shock must have written on his face because the women took that as an affirmative.  
  
"You are a mutant, and we are from a school that will teach you control over your gift. You are not obliged to come, but you will be accepted there, and treated as an equal. Would you like to come?"  
  
Harry stared down at his hands, contemplating the choice. Realizing that he really didn't have any other options, he saw that the decision was already made for him.  
  
He looked up at each of them in the eye, trying to sense for any deception. Seeing none, he let out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding, and nodded his affirmation.  
  
"So, what's your name anyway?" Jean asked.  
  
"Harry, Harry Potter."  
  
"Well then Harry, we need to get you back to the school, that is one heck of a cut on your face." She made a grimace at the pain it must be causing.  
  
Harry, who had many, many years ago become accustomed to pain, raised a shocked hand up to his face to touch the wound. This was where the women became aware of the handcuffs he was now sporting. Seeing their wide eyes at his handcuffs, he tired to act nonchalant about it, shrugging and saying, "It's a VERY, very long story." The other two seemed to accept this, and Jean narrowed her eyes at the manacles before they unlatched with a surprisingly loud 'CLICK' before falling to the ground.  
  
"Your gift?" he asked the flame haired one. "One of them," she mysteriously replied. "Come with us, the Jet is over this way," she said before gesturing with her head behind her. Without another word, the two turned around and began walking through the wood, parallel with the road.  
  
Harry noticed that neither lady seemed to think it was dangerous to turn their backs on him, and if they would offer him that level of trust after finding him in the middle of the woods handcuffed of all things, then he would try to learn to trust them as well. Trust was a thing abused by too many in Harry's life, and freely giving it out wasn't something that he was prepared to do anymore. He would, however, try.  
  
"So Harry," Jean turned around from the co-pilot seat in the X-jet to talk to him. "How exactly did you wind up in the middle of the countryside in handcuffs and that..... interesting attire?"  
  
Harry leaned back from where he had been watching the blue water of the Atlantic Ocean from the window to look at her. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather only tell this story once. I am sure that the Headmaster of your school will want to hear it also, wouldn't he?"  
  
"Good point, God knows I hate telling the same story over and over. So how old are you anyway?"  
  
"I turn sixteen at the end of this month."  
  
"Oh! so you should be a Sophomore this year, what classes do you take at school?" She asked excitedly.  
  
Harry grimaced. That was something he hadn't thought of. While he may be outstanding in Defense against the Dark Arts, and decently good at Charms, as far as muggle education went he hadn't even finished primary.  
  
"Ah, that's part of the long story. You called Ororo Storm, earlier, didn't you? What was that all about?"  
  
"Hmmm, I shouldn't have let that slip, You'll soon find out from Professor Xavier, I imagine."  
  
"Who's that?"  
  
"The headmaster, Harry. Oh, and before I forget, we are both teachers at the school, so you should probably be calling us by our last names. Ororo here, is Ms. Munroe, and you can call me Dr. Grey or Dr. Summers. I'll answer to either."  
  
Harry nodded, assimilating the information when the movement of the jet began to change. He hadn't noticed it, but they were now descending vertically into a hanger, which closed overhead. Harry, who had for the better part of the last five years lived in a castle, was in wonder at all of the technology.  
  
He was interrupted from his musings by a voice calling to him. "Come on Harry, you have to meet the professor, and then we can get that cut taken care of, okay?" Jean asked with a smile.  
  
Jean herself was wondering why she had taken such a liking to this new kid. Something about him just screamed 'take care of me', yet something else told her that anyone would be lucky to have this intriguing young man at his or her respective back in a fight. One thing was for sure though, between those eyes, the scars, the hair (once he had taken that ridiculous hat off) and his accent, he was going to be beating the girls of with a stick.  
  
They made their way to the Professor's office without interruption, and they walked in without even knocking. When Harry had heard about Professor Xavier, he imagined something akin to what Professor Dumbledore looked like. He didn't expect an entirely bald man in a wheelchair with something in his eyes that spoke volumes about his intelligence and character.  
  
"Ah, Mr. Potter, I'm so glad you could come. He wheeled to a stop in front of Harry and held out his hand for a shake. Harry numbly took it, too many questions running around in his head had shut down most of his higher consciousness. "Ms. Grey has told me you have quite a long story to tell, involving a pointy hat and handcuffs?"  
  
Harry cringed at these words and pulled back a bit. It was certainly a painful life, and not an easy one to tell either. However, he didn't hear Jean relay anything and he had been within earshot of her since they met. "How....." he began, but stopped when he heard a voice in his head.  
  
// Not all gifts are as flashy as controlling the weather, Mr. Potter. //  
  
"It seems as though it would be a painful story to tell, right?" he continued out loud. Harry nodded numbly once again. "Have a seat, please."  
  
Harry sat down roughly, not breaking eye contact with Xavier. Had it not been for Jean's telekinetic shove of a chair a few feet behind him, he may have ended up sitting on the floor.  
  
"If it would make it easier, I can read your memories. You would have to really open up and trust me for that, however. I will promise you that I will not divulge any information I may acquire without your approval."  
  
Harry mulled it over a bit, before deciding that he would rather not tell the story aloud, (even he had trouble believing it at times, and he had experienced it), and more than that, his heart was screaming at him to trust these people.  
  
"Okay Professor, what do I have to do?" he asked, barely more than a whisper.  
  
"Just close your eyes and relax Harry, try to bring up the relevant memories, In chronological order if you can."  
  
Harry nodded, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath letting it out slowly.  
  
// Whenever you are ready, Harry. // Xavier's voice sounded in his head.  
  
Memories began to flash across the inside of Harry's eyelids.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The night Voldemort killed his parents  
  
Ten years of living in a cupboard under the stairs  
  
Hagrid, and his introduction to the magical world.  
  
Finding out he is famous, and hating it.  
  
Going after the Sorcerer's Stone.  
  
Dobby.  
  
Flying the car to Hogwarts.  
  
Everyone thinking he was the Heir of Slytherin.  
  
Hermione getting petrified.  
  
Fighting the Basilisk.  
  
Blowing up his 'Aunt' Marge  
  
Professor Lupin teaching him the Patronus charm.  
  
Sirius Black.  
  
Using the time turner to save Buckbeak and Sirus.  
  
The Quidditch World Cup.  
  
Being chosen as a champion in the Triwizard Tournament.  
  
The hate he received from the school for said participation.  
  
The First task, against the Dragon.  
  
The Second task, waiting to make sure that everyone was saved from the lake.  
  
The Third task, and getting Cedric to take the cup with him.  
  
"Kill the Spare...."  
  
Voldemort's rebirth.  
  
The connection of the wands.  
  
Getting Cedric's body back to Hogwarts.  
  
'I will not tell lies' written into the back of his hand.  
  
The D.A.  
  
The Department of Mysteries.  
  
Going to make breakfast, and getting knocked out.  
  
The trial.  
  
Ginny clawing him.  
  
The Aurors collapsing.  
  
Jean and Ororo approaching him.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The connection was broken, and Harry drew in a staggered breath, wiping the tears away from his eyes while blinking furiously.  
  
When his vision was finally clear, he readjusted his glasses and looked up hopefully at Xavier. Xavier was staring at him with a small amount of awe, and a large amount of respect. He seemed to snap out of it quickly though.  
  
"Well Mr. Potter..... Harry.... You are welcome to stay as long as you could possibly want. I look forward to meeting with you again to discuss your schooling, but some things are more important. Jean, I believe that Harry would like to get that cut taken care of, then perhaps a meal, a tour, and some sleep? It has been a very trying day for him, I'm afraid."  
  
"Of course, Professor. Come on Harry, lets go to the medical ward." Harry rose, and with a second worried glance to Xavier, he followed in the woman's wake.  
  
Charles Xavier turned to Storm, offering her a small smile. "That boy walked in here an X-man." 


	2. Meet Your Roomies

Harry sat upon a large metallic cot while Jean dug around in a large cabinet for something to fix his face up with. While not bleeding profusely as before, the cut was still open and in danger of becoming infected. As she continued her rummaging, Harry once again took the opportunity to look around freely without being watched.  
  
Again, the sheer technology threatened to overwhelm him. Computer monitors were abound, with large steel poles standing almost to the ceiling with bars snaking out every set amount of space on them scattered about the room. From these bars various medical instruments hung, and Harry had no idea what most of them were even used for.  
  
Jean turned around with a clear bottle three quarters full of a similarly clear fluid, some cotton swabs, and a large white bandage. "Brace yourself Harry," she said while dabbing some of the fluid onto a cotton swab. "This is going to... sting."  
  
She applied the swab to his gouge, and it didn't sting at all. In fact, he thought, it 'burned like all hell'. To his credit, however, he didn't cry out, just let the pain flow through. He found it much easier to deal with pain if he didn't fight it, and instead just let it ride. After a time, when Jean must have decided that it was about as disinfected as she thought it would get, she applied the bandage to the side of his face, trying to keep the large rectangular bandage as much out of his eye as possible.  
  
"There you go."  
  
He opened his eyes to look into the maternal gaze of Jean, but not really knowing what it was, other than the fact that before the whole fiasco of a week ago, Molly Weasley had looked at him the same way. Giving her a confused glance, he turned to the side where there was a mirror. The cut was completely covered by the white bandage, and while it did stick out like a sore thumb, it did cover his cut and would hopefully help it heal. It didn't look as wide as it did when she pulled it out of the cupboard, however, and it only covered the necessary part of his face. No more, no less.  
  
He looked back to her, and spoke a quiet, yet sincere "Thank you."  
  
She smiled, and threw away the bloodied cotton and the latex gloves he hadn't noticed her put on. "Come on, I'll show you to your dorm and introduce you to your dorm mates. They will help you learn your way around the school."  
  
Harry nodded, and jumped off the table, before noticing that he still was wearing the dirtied, smelly, and frayed robe he had pulled off of one of his guards. "Do you have something I could wear? I imagine that not only do I stick out, but It must be unpleasant, if not painful to smell me at the moment...." He trailed off, not knowing how to ask for anything without getting yelled at for it.  
  
Jean, in response, walked over to a shelving with large amounts of gray sweats in varying sizes on it. She put her chin in her hand, seemingly weighing choices, before pulling a pair of sweatpants and a similar hooded sweatshirt and handing them to him. "There is a screen over there you can change behind." She said, pointing to a far corner of the room with another of those curious smiles.  
  
He walked over to the corner and took his robe off, and the prisoner clothing he wore under that off. Pulling on the sweats, he absently noted that on the back of the sweatshirt read 'Xavier Institute for Gifted Children' in black print, with a large black 'X' over his heart. He went through the pockets of the robe, and transferred the wand to the pouch in the sweatshirt over his stomach, and the golden galleons and silver sickles went into his pants pocket. He padded over to jean, his prisoners boots left behind with the other clothing, and she immediately noticed. She went over and grabbed some socks, tossing them to him, and said "We don't keep any shoes in this room, I'll have to find you some on the way to the dorm. Ready to go?"  
  
Harry nodded again, and gestured in a sweeping arc with his right hand towards the door while giving a slight bow at the waist. "After you." He said in a slightly playful tone, her caring actions helping him become more at ease. She chuckled a bit shaking her flaming red hair around her face as she shook her head, and replied "Why thank you good sir." She left the room with Harry following her.  
  
XXXXXX  
  
"On your right is the physics and mathematics classroom, and up ahead on your left is the history room." She said, trying to give him a jumpstart on learning his way around. They turned a corner in the hallway, and the dark maple boarding and white plaster walls were already seeming like home to him. "Up here is the garage for mechanics, and directly ahead, is the gift training room. No one is allowed in there alone, and until you show enough control, only teachers will be allowed to bring you in there.  
  
He looked to the end of the hallway, and there was a large X in a circle that he assumed opened up somehow. It seemed to be a fairly secure room, and he could understand the rules that were in place over it. Something that was bothering him earlier was brought back to his attention at that moment. "Jean, er... Dr. Grey? Do you know what exactly my gift is?"  
  
Jean stopped, looking at him with shock. He stopped not more than two step later, noticing she wasn't walking still. "You mean you don't know?" At his head shake in the negative, she continued. "Well, I'm sure the professor can help you out with the memories of your unlocking to figure it out." She began walking again, and Harry fell in step behind her. "Its not like we can hook a computer up to you and get an instant answer, everyone's gift is different, and there is no way to tell for sure exactly how the X gene has affected you. You'll find out soon enough I imagine, as you will need to get some control on it quickly."  
  
The entire time she was talking, they had turned to the right up a staircase embedded into the wall which turned a full ninety degrees over two turns at equal points up the stairs, into what Harry assumed was the dormitory area. She quickly assured him that his assumption was correct. "These rooms are the dorms of the Institute. This is a Co-ed dorm, so some semblance of honor will have to be maintained, understood?"  
  
Harry blushed at the insinuation of her statement, and she chuckled again, shaking her head as she did so once more. "Ah, here we are." They had stopped in front of a door with a plaque that read "Room D-4" on it. "Room number four, there are already three other boys living in here, and," she checked her watch, "They should all be in for the night already, and we can get you introduced right away."  
  
She opened the door, and inside sat a blonde boy with blue eyes at a desk, reading a book and writing in a notepad, a black haired boy playing with a zippo while staring off into space, and a boy with yellow eyes and blue fur covering his body perched on the back of a couch watching TV  
  
The blue furred one immediately started trying to put his watch on, but was panicking so bad he couldn't seem to get it onto his wrist. Harry immediately walked over to him. "Hi, my name is Harry Potter." He said holding his hand out. The other boy blinked in astonishment at him for a few seconds before tentatively smiling and grasping the outstretched hand with his own three fingered appendage. "Kurt Vagner." Harry smiled at him. "Nice to meet you Kurt." He turned to the others in the room, who were also staring at him unbelievingly. He instinctively looked down, to see if he had dropped something on his clothing, then running a hand around his face to feel if there was anything there. Finding nothing in either search, he looked at the three of them. "What? Do I have something on my face?"  
  
Kurt put a hand on his shoulder, and he looked over to him, noticing that Jean had already shut the door and left. "Doesn't the vay I look, you know, bother you?" Harry looked him in the eyes, and could tell that he didn't like the way he looked at all. The bespectacled boy shrugged. "Should it?"  
  
Kurt's tentative smile widened considerably while he shook his head. "No, no of course it should not." He sat down on the couch heavily, slouching over, before turning his head back up to look at him. "It does make most people look at me oddly though."  
  
"I'll say!" said a voice from behind him. He turned to see the blond boy walking over to him. "It took me a good couple of weeks before I got used to it, well, after he stopped using his watch. I'm Bobby." He said while holding his hand out for Harry to shake. "But you can call me Iceman." Harry shook his hand. "Iceman?" he questioned. In response Bobby let go of his hand, held his own palm up, and a stalagmite made of Ice shot up out of his hand. Harry looked at it, then back to Bobby, then back to the Ice, before breathing out, "Wicked."  
  
He smiled before dropping it into a garbage can. Over there is Johnny, he said, pointing over to the boy with the medium length black hair. "You can call me Pyro." He said, not getting up from the recliner he was in. "Why Pyro?" Johnny lit the zippo and pulled the flame from it, enlarging it to the size of a baseball before casually tossing it back and forth between his hands. "I like to play with fire" he replied with a smirk.  
  
Just then Bobby's opening words finally finished their processing. He turned back to Kurt. "What about a watch?" Kurt smiled sheepishly, ruffling the hair on the back of his head. He slipped the watch he was desperately trying to get on a few minutes ago onto his wrist, easily this time, and pressed a button on it. He flickered for just a second, before his image changed completely. His blue fur had vanished, leaving a pale skin behind, and instead of his yellow eyes, they were a dark blue, almost black irises. The hair on his head had also changed to a black similar to his eyes, real enough if you were just glancing at it, but if you were actually looking, it looked to be dyed from a different color. Not much, but it still just didn't look right.  
  
Instead of the pajama bottoms he had on before, he now had a full set of clothing on. A pair of faded jeans, a white undershirt with a tan overshirt unbuttoned draping over it. His tail was nowhere to be seen. Harry looked him directly in the eyes. "Turn that silly thing off."  
  
When he made no move to do so, Harry felt he had to elaborate. "This isn't you Kurt. Granted, I've only known you for a few minutes, but the person I'd like to make a friend out of isn't contained in a watch. In closing," he said with a mischievous smirk, and exaggerating his hand movements in a poor parody of a politician, "Turn that silly thing off."  
  
Kurt turned off the watch, reverting to his 'blue' state, before grabbing Harry in a rough hug. He pulled back quickly, trying to wipe away a few stray tears without anyone noticing. "I vould very much like to be your friend, Herr Potter." He said with a small smile on his face. "Well then, Herr Vagner, I accept. But you're waking me up for breakfast tomorrow!" he smiled playfully, wanting to break the almost palpable tension that had built up despite his best efforts. He began walking towards the four beds in the adjacent room, figuring the one that was still made was for him.  
  
"You do know that his name is Wagner, right? Not Vagner, that's how he pronounces it with his accent." Came a call from Pyro back in the sitting room. Harry looked at him incredulously. "Did you ever stop to think that perhaps you are saying his name wrong? I mean, it IS afterall, his name. I think that he of all people should know how to pronounce it."  
  
Johnny looked angry, but didn't argue the point. 'Okay,' Harry thought to himself as he lay down in his bed, 'Fire-boy has a temper. Not too surprising, and if I can handle Ron, I can handle anything'. Thinking of Ron, though, brought up all the things he hadn't been thinking about since he got on the jet with Dr. Grey and Ms. Munroe. He had lost everything that had been his life for the last five years. Everyone he had placed trust in had turned on him, and practically damned him to death. He doubted he could have lasted a week with the dementors influence on him before he either went insane or just plain old died. That was unforgivable. As he drifted off to sleep, he fantasized about the wizarding world finding out the truth, and begging him to come back. He'd tell them to 'fuck off', just like he told Dumbledore he would, and then some people, like Lupin and Weasley, Sr., would sit down dumbly, and the women would cry. He would take particular pleasure in making Ginny feel guilty about the new scar he was sure to have.  
  
XXXXXX  
  
Meanwhile........  
  
Albus Dumbledore sat down heavily at his massive desk in his office at Hogwarts, looking at a paper amongst many but not actually seeing it. His mind was off somewhere else, thinking about how he just sentenced a not even sixteen year old boy to hell on earth. A boy, mind you, that was like a grandson to him, despite the slight falling out they had at the end of last term.  
  
If the prophecy was correct, he had perhaps just doomed the entire world to dominion under Voldemort.  
  
He was interrupted from his musings when Alastor Moody barged in through his office door, making it slam against the interior wall with an echo that reverberated throughout the room. "Potter's escaped!" he barked at him, his disappointment evident in both his tone and expression. The magical eyeball was no longer zooming around the room, but locked on the headmaster's face as was his 'good' eye.  
  
"Please shut the door, Alastor. Now what happened?" After Moody had shut the door, he walked back and dropped himself into a chair in front of the headmaster's desk, the weariness in his body apparent. "When the detail that escorted Potter to Azkaban didn't report back in, the ministry sent out a second detail to find out why. I was invited to come along. We found all six of the detail collapsed on the ground, suffering hypothermia from the rain. Potter had run off, and we tracked his magical signal some three kilometers down the road before it just.... vanished. He has with him one of the Auror's robes, and his wand. Fat lot of good it will do him, though. It'll only work half the time, at best."  
  
Albus, for his part, was under conflicted emotions. He worried that someone who had murdered and attempted to murder yet another had escaped, but on the other hand, he had some hope that the Dark Lord might be defeated. Unless...." Did you find out what made the Aurors collapse? It wasn't Voldemort, was it?"  
  
"No, Albus, it wasn't. There wasn't a trace of magic on them." he began, shifting uncomfortably. "At first, we thought they had simply been cursed with a stunner or other such thing. It wasn't until we couldn't ennervate them until we portkeyed them to St. Mungo's." here he trailed off. "And?..." Albus prompted. "They were discovered to be extremely dehydrated. In the RAIN, ALBUS! How the hell can you dehydrate someone, in the rain no less, without magic?"  
  
Albus, who already was burdened with a full load, was given yet another thing to worry about.  
  
XXXXXX  
  
"Harry, Harry, wake up!" Kurt pleaded, trying to gently wake him with a rocking of his shoulder. Harry, however, having had one of the best nights sleep in.... well in memory, had no intention of getting out of bed. "G'way, neeeed sleeepy." He gestured with his arm in a 'Go away' motion, without moving his head from where it was buried in his pillow. Kurt, however, was not to be deterred. "Bobby!" he yelled.  
  
Bobby turned from in front of his closet to see what was going on. "Wassup Kurt?"  
  
"I think that our new roommate needs some help waking up. Remember how you, er, helped me get up my first morning here?"  
  
The skin around Iceman's eyes scrunched up in his smile, his pale blue eyes sparkling. He reached out his hand to where Harry's form lay, and he dropped his smile to concentrate. In a matter of seconds, the temperature of Harry's blankets dropped from reasonably warm to somewhere around the freezing point of water. Harry yelped, and started kicking and pushing the ice cold blankets off of him as fast as he could. Just as he had gotten out of the frosty embrace, he fell of the bed, landing on his back with a loud 'thud'. His legs were propped up in the air, resting against his bed, while he just splayed his arms out to the sides, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling trying to get his breathing back under control.  
  
"That," he began, but stopped to wet his dry lips and take a deep breath, "was the most cruel thing anyone has ever done to me to get me out of bed." He still hadn't looked away from the ceiling.  
  
"Bobby cringed at his tone, and Kurt was in the middle of preparing himself for a panic attack. It may not have been the best idea to prank someone out of bed, especially someone who welcomed you openly without reservations, something only Professor Xavier had done.  
  
Surprisingly, though, Harry started laughing out loud. He quickly uprighted himself, and grabbed his sweatshirt top to pull on, trying to fight off the chill of the room. "We have GOT to do that to somebody else."  
  
Kurt breathed a sigh of relief, and Bobby laughed outright. "Man, I thought you were really pissed for a second there." "Naw, but you have just gotten yourself into a prank war. I hope you realize this?"  
  
Even though they didn't know what his power was, there was something about the maniacal gleam in his eyes that neither boy was quite comfortable with. "Er... well, y'see,... ah, its like an initiation right, right Kurt?" Bobby turned to Kurt with pleading eyes. Kurt completely understood where this was going. Turning back to Harry, he said "They did the same thing to me on my first morning, Harry."  
  
Harry nodded, letting the matter drop. Pulling on his trainers, he made for the door, and the three headed down to breakfast. "Just so you know, I am going to get you both back. I don't get pranked without payback." Both other boys tensed up, but Harry patted them both on the back, from where they were on either side of him. "Relax fellas. It's not going to be on my first day here, and it definitely won't be something that will be dangerous."  
  
"Great," Bobby muttered, "Now I'm going to be jumpy for however long it takes for him to get us back."  
  
"That was a great idea Kurt." Bobby said while trying to smack Kurt in the back of the head. Kurt disappeared in a flash of smoke and brimstone, reappearing much the same way ten feet down the corridor just before Bobby made contact. Harry just laughed. It felt good to have friends again. 


End file.
